


A Collision of Need and Want

by NightReaderEnigma



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon - Book, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Jaime and Brienne only want each other, Jaime uses snark to mask his true feelings, Love Confessions, One Shot, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexy Times, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: “You are very handsome.”  Brienne watched Jaime dress, wanting him to know how she appreciated his splendour, the lines of his physique rippling as he pulled the padded tunic over his head.  “It's enough to make a woman quite weak.  Quite wanton.”  She ducked her head at her own confession staring up at him through blonde lashes.  A blanket tucked snugly around her nudity as she sat in the centre of their straw mattress.“And you-”  Jaime sauntered over to her with an almost feline gait, planting a swift kiss upon her lips.  “-Are so innocent a man finds himself distracted by near constant thoughts of corruption.  Why in recent times I find myself focussing less on the battle at hand and more on the bed thereafter.”~~~~~~Yearning, desire, sexual tension and love reach a crescendo, and after long years of their acquaintance, neither Jaime or Brienne have the power to resist it anymore.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 32
Kudos: 169





	A Collision of Need and Want

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Time for my first fic of 2021. This is a one-shot which just came to me out of the blue so I ran with the idea. I was toying around with the concept of a book-canon equivalent of the drinking scene from Season 8 (including the sexy times which followed) and how it could unfold with the book versions of Jaime and Brienne. This is what resulted!

“You are very handsome.” Brienne watched Jaime dress, wanting him to know how she appreciated his splendour, the lines of his physique rippling as he pulled the padded tunic over his head. “It's enough to make a woman quite weak. Quite wanton.” She ducked her head at her own confession staring up at him through blonde lashes. A blanket tucked snugly around her nudity as she sat in the centre of their straw mattress. 

“And you-” Jaime sauntered over to her with an almost feline gait, planting a swift kiss upon her lips. “-Are so innocent a man finds himself distracted by near constant thoughts of corruption. Why in recent times I find myself focussing less on the battle at hand and more on the bed thereafter.”

“Best give your attention to the former or else you will not live to see the latter again.”

“Would you mourn me?” His grin was supposed to be cocksure but beneath was a hint of insecurity.

“Very much.” She confided. “I would be greatly saddened. I would miss you.”

“But is it me you would miss or perhaps my cock?”

A profuse blush crept across her cheeks. “If I admit both it somewhat negates your earlier assertion. I am not so innocent anymore.”

It was true. Scandalous, shockingly unexpected in the best of ways, but honest nonetheless. A turn of the moon ago, if a seer had told the Maid of Tarth she would be happily sharing the Kingslayer’s bed every night – she would have scoffed and thought them quite the charlatan. But it had happened one hour of the bat, as the ice winds roared beyond the walls of Winterfell.

The advance of the Wights had been gradual then. The winter cold but manageable. Supplies had still been ample and ale flowed almost as freely as conversation, whilst soldiers mingled, forgetting their troubles for the night. Jaime teased her relentlessly throughout their meal, commandeering all her attention. An act which made Pod grin slyly and Hyle glower. 

First Jaime employed his old favourite tropes; her dour manner, her immense size, her lack of humour. 

Brienne had responded with tolerant silence, her understanding of the Lion Lord who sat opposite having grown into a respect which conjured patience. When first she had dubbed his mockery callous and vexing, she now knew it was just his way. A façade to cover the depth which ran in his veins. A mask he donned to conceal the emotional wounds gouging ravines in his soul. If he thought so little of her, he would never squander his time by baiting her for a reaction. If she was so below his notice, he would not have followed her to the Brotherhood, saving the man and boy with whom they shared a table. 

Indeed, if he considered Brienne of Tarth worthy of ridicule – he would not be sitting in the North right now. 

She had gazed into her cup of watered wine, shouldering his quips and snark. The words losing their bite when she knew they contained no true malice. They were comrades, enemies long forgotten. A comfortable acquaintanceship for the most part. Except when he went a step too far. 

“Laugh Wench…smile. It will not kill you I promise. Your face will not crack if you allow that sombre expression to slip. Not that it would alter much if it did…” His deadly smirk, another sip from his ale cup. A flash of wickedness in his green marbles, reflecting the sconces and making him appear both God and fiend. “In fact, I can think of several things which would be good for loosening up that austere demeanour of yours and bringing a smile to your face… all of which you haven’t done.” 

Jaime raised his eyebrows, challenging her to refute him. Pod squirmed awkwardly in his place and Hyle guffawed, spluttering and sending a spray of ale flying from between his teeth. 

Brienne had zero desire to enter into this avenue of discussion. Pushing herself up from the bench, she met Jaime’s eye. Calm, collected and severely unimpressed. “When I want advice upon what would be good for me Ser Jaime – I will ask for it. Until such time I suggest you keep your suggestions to yourself.” Turning towards Pod and Hyle, she nodded once politely. “I bid you good night.” 

She had strode from the dining hall with her head held high, leaving a cold breeze in her wake which could have put the Night’s King to shame. It must have been felt by all at table, for she was not halfway down the walkway when the pounding of boots upon the stone floor caught up with her. 

“Wench…” Jaime puffed, darting in front of her to block her path. “… You are not seriously offended by what I said? Lighten up, it is a truthful observation.” 

Pushing past him roughly she proceeded down the corridor, turning left and removing her keys from her pocket in preparation to enter her chamber and forget this entire conversation. “What I said stands. I do not wish to continue on the topic.” 

“So bristly, _My Lady_.” He hovered alongside her stride for stride, like an annoying insect who refused to be shooed away. “Dare I hazard a guess that I’ve struck a nerve?” 

“No such thing. I feel no need to discuss my private life with you or anyone at that table.” 

“Now see I disagree. For it is us who must endure your uptight, morose conduct. Though might I say, it is little mystery as to why your maidenhood endures when you are so sensitive about it - no one would chance broaching the subject with you, let alone getting down to business.”

Brienne had arrived at her door and clumsily pushed the key into the lock. Her temper was rising, she could feel it. The blood rushing to her face in a flood of reddened embarrassment and anger. 

_You do not have to justify yourself to him or anyone else…_

But at the same time she was besieged by the urge to set him straight. Redirect his course of wrongful supposition. 

She shoved the door open, keen to seek refuge in her room, but found naught soothing about the stagnant air within. Whirling upon Jaime, the compulsion to correct him won out. 

“Do not be so sure of yourself _My Lord_ ,” she imitated the way he had used her title a few moments before. “I have had offers - several in fact. So do not assume I have not had opportunity, the mistake of such presumptions only makes a fool of yourself.” 

With a firm hand she seized the door, ready to slam it in his face, but Jaime's boot purposefully blocked its trajectory. His golden head tilted to the side in contemplation, humour falling out of his mien. “Several? I take it one of those was Hyle?” 

“Yes.” She rammed the door roughly into his foot, trying to prompt him to move it. “He was one of many.” The infuriating knight did shift then – forwards. Squeezing through the space and into her bower. Brienne groaned audibly. 

_He will not let this lie – what have I unleashed upon myself by engaging in this debate?_

Jaime did not need to know how the propositions came about. The bet, the belittling cruelty, the finer points of the humiliation and hurt. She had only needed him to know that to some, small extent she was desirable. Could have had many an encounter if she’d made the choice. That she was a woman and not so ugly as to be beyond a man’s interest. 

_Why does him knowing that matter to me?_

If the lion was remotely abashed about barging into her room without invitation, he did not wear it outwardly. Not even the least bit perturbed, he demanded his next answer. “I take it you did not accept?” 

His voice was loud. Too loud. Whether from his cup of ale or some form of upset. Either way, she did not want this conversation travelling further than these four walls. Huffing, she stomped across the room and slammed the door behind him. 

“ _I chose_ …” She emphasised the beginning, wanting the impact to resonate with him. “…to refuse them.”

“Good.” 

That one word from him caused a thousand questions to flood her mind. A rush of conflicting, jumbled emotions which made her stomach flip. But she didn’t have time to ponder the implications, for his follow up query brought her straight back to infuriation. 

“Why?” Jaime’s brow had furrowed, watching her like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “Your title? Your reputation? Your marriage prospects? Your Father?” 

“No. The decision was mine alone.” 

“Then I ask again - why?”

“How is it any of your concern?!” Her tone was shrill at the end, rising in fury at his audacity. She was not answerable to him, certainly he was not in any position to try and govern her personal relationships or lack thereof. And this entire argument was out of line, stepping over boundaries and thresholds of propriety and decency. 

“Because I want to know!” Jaime raked a hand through his blonde hair, exasperation permeating into the closed space. “Was it duty? Disinclination? Do you like women? Horses? Why?!” 

_This is ridiculous._ Brienne could scream in frustration, she very nearly did. The answer shrieking from her mouth. “Because I didn’t want them!” 

There it was. The explanation to his impudent query she didn’t need to give. 

Though it had flown from her with vehemence, propelled by the same forces which had entered her into this discussion in the first place, the timid attachment that didn’t object to his presence in her private abode. The molten liquid at her very core, beneath layers of harsh steel and sky-high barricades. 

It pleaded with her to make him understand – how men had tried, but she would never let them touch her, hold her. She wouldn’t even entertain the notion of their slimy bodies writhing against hers. Better they try a stinging nettle or an icicle for a more welcoming reception. Her head may be hard, but her heart held the reins. 

Jaime visibly relaxed in the lull that followed her confession. Cool composure returning to his posture. Cocksure smile reappearing on his lips, whilst her pulse pounded in her ears, drumbeats attesting to how perplexed and rattled this entire situation was making her. 

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Brienne tried to sound firm, even if she heard herself quaver. “If you are found it would cause rumours.” 

“Is that bad?” He asked, his voice taking on a different tone. One she hadn’t heard before. “Would that idea trouble you?” 

She blinked, her insides twisting into knots of tension and another sensation she couldn’t identify. Pooling warmth and clenching, farther south than her stomach but north of her knees. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You said that your motivations for refusal weren’t obligatory or fear for your reputation.” He sidled closer, one slow meandering step at a time. “Which means that it was solely preference.” 

“Preference?” A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she tried to puzzle out his riddles. 

“You haven’t been asked by a man you actually desire; one you would want in your bed.” Another step. They were barely a foot apart now. Her head swam, an intoxicating delirium produced by his proximity. “Shall I take my chance?” 

“Your chance…?” _Where is my voice?_ It was lost in her chest, locked in her throat. The question scarcely a whisper.

He leant in close to her ear, breath caressing her face. The scent of ale and lye soap filling her senses. “Should I ask you Wench?” His timbre was husky, his nose pressing into her cheek, nuzzling soft circles - from which she didn’t pull away. A sigh escaping at the gentle contact. 

Jaime chuckled softly. “Do you want _me_ Brienne?” His lips pressed affectionately against her gnarled flesh, the raw jagged rivers of poorly healed skin sensitive and obscene. “Because _I_ want you…” 

Her knees buckled, and she barely caught herself in time. Or maybe she didn’t. Perhaps it was the arm wrapped around her thick waist which caught her. Every muscle in her body resembling jelly, whilst he trailed kisses up her jaw, taking her earlobe between his teeth. 

“Can I have my answer?” He murmured, his left hand splayed against the small of her back, dragging her hips flush against his. Sucking and nipping his way down her neck. 

“Jaime…” It was a gasp and all the coherence she could muster. 

“Was that a yes?”

“Jaime…” Brienne panted, slipping her arms around him. Squeezing his shoulder, threading fingers through the golden curls at the base of his neck. Bundling him to her and coyly snaking her calve around his. Letting him slip a knee between her legs, pushing his arousal firmly against her nethers, making her moan at the unfamiliar contact. She was astonished by her own bravado when she rubbed herself against him, the friction setting her blood to singing in a way even swordplay never had. 

The lion growled, throaty with intent. “Close enough.” 

His lips crashed into hers, devouring her pleas communicated through whimpers and snatches of breath. The most delicious sensation in the world swallowing her as she consented to the only man she craved. Relishing her first kisses, dissolving at first touches, melting into the mattress as he laid her upon the bed. Breeches removed by both their deft but trembling fingers, his weight pressing exquisitely down on her. 

That was how simple it was. Parting with what she had guarded for years. Clinging to his body as he rocked them both, the rhythm smoother and more luxurious than sailing upon a calm sea. Her chest rising and falling like waves, his hips rolling into her the consistent beat of the swell against the hull. Brienne had always loved the motions of being on the water, now she found a pursuit even more pleasing. 

Afterwards they lay in serenity. Ribcages heaving, recovering from a blissful exhaustion. Bashfulness creeping in when she registered what exactly she had just done. Her complexion pink from enjoyment and sheepishness. 

Jaime had sat up, leaning over to plant a kiss on her thigh. His heated lips connecting with ivory, freckles and a scarlet streak of blood as she squirmed in surprise, wriggling down her shift and trying to preserve what last shreds of modesty she had left. He smirked at her cockily, "I suspected as much...." A kiss to her blazing brow. "…I knew you wanted me."

  
He crawled from the bed, leisurely gathering his things. Creating a nuisance as her sapphires roamed of their own volition, impressed by her own boldness. That somehow in her impassioned frenzy she had managed to divest him of all his clothing whilst retaining her own shift. Her gaze traversed down the muscles of his abdomen, his navel, lower still, coming to rest on...

"You're welcome to look."

  
She physically jumped, looking away as her face went from warm to scalding. "I'm not shy like _some_ maidens..." Jaime chuckled at her expense. "My apologies... _Former_ maidens. You had best get used to seeing a lot of me Wench."

  
“Why?” The offhanded way he had spoken made her forget her embarrassment, rotating back towards his direction.  
  


Tucking himself away, Jaime fastened his laces with only five digits. “Because we will be spending every night together from now on.” He smiled and that was the first time she knew it. The name of the feeling both of them had been waltzing around for the longest time. The meaning settling over her, seeping into her pores. 

_Love._

It was present through their bickering and fights. Their defence of one another, their mutual trust and honesty. Their faith in each other’s honour, the way they inherently understood the inner workings of their psyche, indecipherable to any outsiders. 

She had written it off as many things; patience, respect, camaraderie. But their actions surpassed such trifling definitions many, many moons ago. Through bear pits and gifted swords, lingering looks and conversations laced with undercurrent. 

How easily she succumbed to his advances some would say. But in truth it was the longest road, the most harrowing and valorous of journeys. Jaime had earnt the rights to her love and body in ways no other had ever come close to. And she had learnt to speak his language, interpret his knightly character, extending him the consideration he needed to open his troubled heart. 

“Then where are you going?” Brienne had asked. Clutching the hem of her shift and ripping it over her head in one fluid movement. 

His grin extended from ear to ear, gleaming teeth and an aura of pure joy. Dropping his undershirt to the floor. “Nowhere.” 

“Would you have it another way?” Jaime’s voice in the present replaced her memory of the past. He waited for her reply, arching an eyebrow. “Undo our coupling, leave things as they were?” 

“No.” There was no hesitation, she was certain of it.

“Well then…” Glancing towards the window at the outside world, he made a show of squinting at dull sunlight. The dim glow growing fainter and shorter by the day. “It is early yet - no need to venture out.” He sat on the pallet beside her. “Time for breakfast.”

“Wouldn't that be delightful.” Brienne had learnt to ignore the gnawing pains of hunger, the grumbles which grew mortifyingly loud. Provisions were scarce now, the harshness of the winter’s fury outdoing all predictions. Food was rationed stringently, with more armies flooding North to join the cause, there was only enough for one meagre meal a day.

“Oh, but I know what I’m having.” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Honey.”

“There's no honey to be had here.” She smiled kindly, even though his joke was silly nonsense. _Because that is what you do when you're in love._

“Ahhh, sweetling.” Jaime tutted. “Now is when you show how pure you still are.” Knocking her back in the covers, he nudged her knees apart. “I know just where to find it.” He licked his bottom lip slowly, deliberately. “I have been remiss...”

He ducked his head between her parted thighs and she squealed in shock and shyness, about to tell him to stop when she felt the simultaneous strokes of his nose and tongue, and collapsed back onto the pillow with a moan. “Mmmmmnnn, Jaime…” 

There was something about this kind of adrenaline that made her entire system spasm, twitching violently with deep exaggerated breaths inflating and deflating her chest from sternum outwards. Lowering her voice to a sultry purr. Sounding to her ears a woman possessed, taken over by the spirit of seduction. Thrilling to the occasional wet lapping sounds and Jaime's murmurs of enjoyment. Teasing her ears and feminine petals in tandem with equally mortifying and titillating declarations regarding her 'taste' and ‘deliciousness.’

  
  
“Fuck!” Brienne bit her lip roughly in self-reprimand as her hips arched from the mattress in response to a particularly intense wave of pleasure. Her septa would be irate at her for swearing. _‘Ladies do not cuss.’_ Though she vividly remembered a lecture upon carnal relations as well - detailing forbearance, sufferance and duty. 

“Oh, how I'm suffering.” 

“What?” Jaime's smirk was roguish, emeralds shimmering as he peered up at Brienne over her own mound. Bringing the compromising nature of her current position to the forefront of her mind. 

“Nothing.” She squeaked, throwing an arm over her face. 

  
  
“My, you are still a stubborn Wench.” He stroked her inner thigh with a curled finger and she secretly wished he would quit talking and go back to what he was doing. “When are you going to admit I was right?” He bestowed one more long tantalising lick which almost made her burst out of her skin. “I knew what you needed.”

“No.” Brienne shook her head defiantly, piecing together thoughts fragmented by ecstasy. “I knew. I knew what I needed. What _we_ needed. I knew it instinctually. It’s why I waited for you…” 

“A likely story.” 

“Admit it Jaime.” Cerulean orbs penetrated his verdant pools. “You were beside yourself worrying I may have given myself to another man. You did everything to needle me into anger just to ensure my sole focus was upon you and no other..r..r…” Her speech stammered when he retaliated by planting a kiss upon her throbbing centre. 

“…You needed me to be yours, just as much as I needed you to be mine. It wasn’t about this -” She gestured to their current positioning. “- Although our sensual relationship is wonderful. It isn’t what we needed. What we needed was that emotion between us we do not address.” 

Jaime propped himself up on an elbow, affording her a view of his impeccably sculpted features. “And what - pray tell - might that be?”

“You know.” Brienne asserted and she was doubtless. “Besides, I’m certainly not saying it for the first time when you’re _there_.” 

The lion took to his forearms, crawling up the length of her body, until they were nose to nose. “Now I’m here. Tell me.” 

“No, _you_ can tell _me_.” 

“Give me a hint.” His curls flopped across her face, tickling and playful as he nibbled on her lobe. Eliciting a giggling chirp from her when he blew into her ear. The blast connecting with the wetness left from his mouth and making her wriggle beneath him. “That’s more what I’ve wanted to hear.” He mumbled appreciatively. “You have a lovely laugh. You should use it more often.” 

“Alright... we can strike a bargain.” She turned her head to lip at his bearded cheek. “Complete my sentence with the correct answer and I swear I will be the happiest woman alive forevermore.”

“The stakes sound very high…” Jaime used his mocking tone, connecting the speckles on her shoulder with his tongue. “…but I will not shrink. Not when the prize is so great.” Laying his head sideways on the pillow, he looked at her expectantly. 

“Very well.” Combing her fingers through his hair, she carefully crafted her phrase. “I _wanted_ your body, but I _needed_ your …..”

“Love.” He answered without hesitation. “And I did. I wanted your body Brienne, but I needed your love.” Jaime swallowed. “More than you could ever know.”

“Me too.” Her smile was content, tucking a blonde lock behind his ear, digits running down a cheek of polarising smooth skin then prickly stubble. “Your body makes me feel alive, wanted. A woman in the best of ways. Admired and cherished.” Taking his hand in hers, she placed it over her heart. “But what I needed was to be accepted, understood. To mean something to the one person who means so much to me. I needed to be loved, but not just by anyone. Jaime – I needed _your_ love, the man I _want._ ” 

The precise sense and symmetry of the full picture was so spectacular it made her ache. The pieces of their intricate tapestry, woven together to produce a pattern of beauty and intrigue. Their pasts forming the outer edges, lonely abstracts laying the foundations for them to meet in the middle. 

Here their colours blended, merging in elaborate overlaps and crossovers. Trauma, burdens, loyalty and values becoming their common threads. Where vexation was another shade of foreplay, stitched in amongst respect and reverence. Disagreements testing the strength of the yarn, measuring their ability to go the distance, enduringly strong through the trickier aspects. The rite of passage to earn the magnificence of their finished product. 

Brienne had never been skilled at needlepoint, but she could appreciate its subtle nuances, the perseverance it took to create a masterpiece – the result of blood, sweat and tears. 

Now years later, she could stand back and marvel at their works. Finally seeing the way they came together. 

Complex, mystifying, balanced, breathtaking.

“You see what we are Jaime.” She kissed him, overwhelmed by awe and gratitude. “We are what happens when need and want collide.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. <3


End file.
